


A Warden's Life

by StregataDalloStregatto



Category: Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: F/M, Slice of Life, various - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-22
Updated: 2015-11-22
Packaged: 2018-05-02 21:32:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5264387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StregataDalloStregatto/pseuds/StregataDalloStregatto
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fragments, slices of life, one shots, drabbles, all about Camelia "Mel" Cousland, her Cheese King (and love of her life) Alistair and all her friends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mel Cousland

**Author's Note:**

> If you'd like Dragon Age stuff and fantasy things, here is
> 
> [my Tumbrl](http://stregatadallostregatto.tumblr.com/) .

“Excuse me, Camelia…”

“Mel.”

“Beg your pardon?”

“She hates her name, so please call her “Mel”!” Alistair grinned, looking at the two women, from above the dinner that he was trying to not char.

Leliana seemed perplexed “Really? Why? It’s a name of a beautiful Antivan Flower, isn’t it?”.

Camelia “Mel” Cousland sighed “It is. And I don’t hate it.” she clarified, petted absent - mindedly her chubby Mabari “I just think that Mel is faster and… stronger.”

“I think “Camelia” is really delicate and…” Leliana smiled, gently, but the newborn Warden snorted “Indeed. Too delicate for a girl with a blade and the dream to become a great heroine. But it was even the name of my Cousland ancestor, who built Highever with her husband, so my… my parents chose it. Mother for this reason, father for honored the meaning of the flower. You know, “eternal love”, “strong love”, “forever together”.”.

She tried to smile “My father was a romantic man.”.

Alistair didn’t say nothing, just observed Mel while she was speaking with their new companion, Sister Leliana - The Maker - Speaks -With - Me- But - I’m not - Mad - Maybe.

At least, the strange chantry sister was corteous and kind, not like a certain witch who he knew. Really, how Mel could find Morrigan pleasant was one of the biggest enigmas of all Fereleden.

Maybe, of all Thedas.

Right now, however, the young man was more corcerned for his Warden companion.

She never spoke too much about her family. She told him the very essential and he didn’t want to insist. He knew she was suffering deeply for what happened in Highever and her new life as a Warden surely didn’t help her, starting in the worst possible way.

His heart clutched painfully, thinking about Duncan, his friends, his life with them.

He had never have a proper family, so he wasn’t sure that he and Mel were feeling the same, pulsating pain in the middle of the chest. What he was sure, anyway, was that she cried every night, trying to muffle her sobs, didn’t know that he had an extremely acute hearing. He wanted desperately try to comfort her, but he didn’t know how to act, what to say or not even if she wanted him to comfort her.

Once, she said that her family cook, an old, determined woman, was used to cook a special soup when she or her brother -Fergus, right? - were ill.

“And she do… did the same even for my little nephew.” she ended, with a very sad smile of her pale face “That was the only way to feed the Cousland when we were sick. My father called it: the magical Highever soup.”.

Alistair looked at their dinner, with a worried look.

A soup.

Was he really trying to console a friend with a soup?

Later, they were eating silently, side by side, when Mel looked at him smiling.

A real smile.

“It was great, Alistair. Thank you. My cook would’ve been so amazed. We could call that : the return of the Magical soup.”

“I… I would be honored.” he whispered, blushing before that enchanting smile. She nodded once, repeating the words, and when she started to cry he knew exactly what was the only right thing to do.

He held her tightly, listening quietly her memories about the night that Highever burned for the treachery of a false friend, when her life was distroyed and her new one was just a blurry future. And he told her about Duncan and his companions, his bitterness, his resolution to save the world to make them proud. And, while he was speaking, she agreed, sympathetic.

“We’ll make all of them very proud, Alistair. My family and your.” she declared, eyes reddened, but voice resoluted.

And, for the first time after such a long time, the two friends understood fully that they weren’t alone.


	2. He Makes Me Smile

“You really must tell me what do you like precisely about Alistair, lady Cousland!”.

The elf was genuinely puzzled, when the young woman refused once again his brazen courtship, explaining for the tenth time that, _no thanks_ , she had yet found the love of her life.

Of course, Zevran wasn’t really hurt by her rejection, his was more a game than a real romantic interest.

However, he didn’t seem able to understand how a woman could be so impenetrable to his grins and saucy words.

Mel chuckled “It’s simple: he makes me smile.”

“Do you mean that he makes you laugh?” he asked, grinning.

“No, Zev, I mean exactly what I said. If I’m glum, if I’m angry, if I wake up terrified by a nightmare, if I’m unsure about our next move, he finds something good to say. Something kind. Or simply funny. I can smile during this mess full of Darkspawn and blood because Alistair, with his presence, reminds me constantly that in this world there are still good people. That you can have bad days and still to be lucky enough to thank the Maker for being alive, because someone like him is here for you.”

“He makes you happy.”

“Yes.”

“I see… but I could make you satisfied.”

“ZEVRAN!”


	3. Their Nights

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beware, NSFW here. Feel free to skip if you're unconfortable.

 

 

His arms were strong, the muscles darting under is rosy skin a memento about the warrior sleeping under bashful smiles and hilarious jokes. They were an advice, for avoiding to forget that he was strong and capable of protecting himself and the ones he loved.

She shivered, when his arms bracing his weight for not crushing her. She wanted him more close. She could handle him.

“I don’t want to mash you, Mel.” he wishpered, kissing her nose, when she tried to hug him stronger.

Mel sighed, delights. Always so tender, always so thoughtful “You won’t hurt me. I want to feel your body. I want…”

“More of this?” he grinned, skin against skin, sucking the pulse on her throat. She rolled and tilted slowly her hips, hidding a smile when he grunted pleased “Much more of this, my prince.”. Alistair chuckled painfully, his voice more a moan than a real answer “You know that I…ah…” another roll from her and he bit his lower lip for clearing his mind “… I hate when someone call me like that. But,” he added lowering his head, looking at her breasts delighted “when you’re naked in my arms, all soft and warm and eager for me, you can call me how do you prefer, I suppose.”.

He kissed her breasts, nibbling at her nipples with a content humming and Mel could feel the heat jumping inside and out their bodies.

“Oh, can I? You’re so generous, my prince.” the young woman breathed against his hair, admiring his hands running along her ribs, between her breast, tickling soflty his navel. Every fear she had in the past about her body - _too short, too big, too flabby_  - totally forgot. She felt like a goddess when she was in his arms. He was looking at her so hungrily and adoringly that, honestly, she really couldn’t feel less than glorious.

Her breath htiched, when she felt his hands on her.

The hands of a warrior. Big, calloused, powerful. They told her about battles and hard times and hours of training.

But they were also capable of kindness e tenderness, they could kill nightmares during the day and worshipping her during the night. They wandered against her skin, tracing an invisible path from her neck to her belly and down, more down, so close to her pulsing core, but not enough for fully pleasing her.

“Alistair.” she called -  _pleaded_  - arching her back, searching for more friction, for simply more.

“My dear?” the Warden replied, his own voice low and strangled by lust and desire.

“Stop teasing me. I want you. Like… now.”

“Tell it again, my love.” he murmured, tracing paths against the creamy skin of her tights. And she repeated her sentence, again, and again, and again, while one of his hands, finally, caressed her aching centre. His mouth covered hers and drunk her moans.

His tongue danced with hers. Merciful Andraste, she loved his tongue. In her mouth, on her skin, nipples, her legs. Alistair kissed her in a way that drove her mad. He rarely used his teeth, but his lips and his tongues didn’t stop until she was quivering and, practically, begging him to put his manhood inside of her.

As always, at this point, Alistair spread her legs, looming over her, admiring her, stroking her cheeks, drinking the sight of her all sweaty and desirous, almost asking for the permission.

There they were, the night before the Landsmeet, in her bedroom in Arle Eamon’s estate. 

After days full of stress, pain and uncertainty, she had decided: she had lost so much. She had lost her loves one, her home, her Order, but she wouldn’t have lost him.

She would hold him, fight  _for_  him and  _with_  him with all her strength, despite Anora, Eamon himself, Loghain, even despite the bloody Archdemon. 

She refused to let him go, even the heroes in her childhood tales had a boundary and giving up to Alistair -  _to the love of her life_  - was hers.

But these were tomorrow concerns.

The night was still their and she stroked firmly his cock, smiling at him when his hips thrust against her hand and an expression of pure bliss appeared on his face.

“I want you so badly, Mel.” he sighed, placing himself between her legs, his body tense. She smiled, her hands on his bottom, pushing him down against her entrance “And then take me, Alistair.”.

And the time for the softness was gone, replacing by passionate moans, hard motions, franzy breaths.

“I love you.” he roared, full inside of her, thrusting fiercely, gripping forcefully her hips.

“I love you.” she sobbed, when their rhythm became even more desperate, bringing quickly them to their release.

And then, they weren’t no longer in Denerim, no longer surrounded by blood and war, no longer Wardens during a Blight.

They were sparkling lovers in the night, bodies deepened in the intense waves of their pleasure, souls and flesh entwined indissolubly.

And when they got back to the reality, the room was filled by low laughes, soft kisses, warm embraces and breathless “I love you.”.

 

 


	4. Helper Friends

 

Alistair sniffed the cup, half - arching one eyebrow “I’m not still reassured. Are you certain that this… thing will work? Do you even know these herbs?”.

Morrigan gave him a glance full of unspeakable disgust “Arbor Wilds say something to your brain, Alistair? Maybe you could remember, using all your inellect, that my previous house was in a very big forest. A place full of plants. Even medicinal ones.”

“A simple “yes” was enough, Morrigan.” he replied, dryly, looking at the dark juice in the wooden cup. He admitted to himself that the scent was pretty pleasant, but he was still shocked that the creepy witch offered her help for healing Mel more quickly.

Oghren snorted, playing with his flaming beard “You can always choose my first option: a sip of my special bottle. Just one and she’ll jump up like a nug in front of the fire.”

“Oh, right, this comparison makes me feel so much more reassured!”

“For the bloody tits of the Paragons, boy, it’s the best cure that you could find under your awful sky!” the dwarf shouted, half indignant.

“If I remeber accruately, and I do, it’s thanks to one of your special bottles that she is unwell, now.” Wynne said placidly to Oghren, tapping her feet. Alistair sighed “Wynne, do you think…”

“I know very well this potion, Alistair. And, for once, I agree with our Morrigan…”

“I’m not yours!”

“… so go to Camelia and help her to drink it. The sooner, the better!”.

Mel was lying in her tent, hands of her her eyes and a odd greenish skin tone “I’m dying.” she whispered “It’s even worst than the Darkspwan blood.”

“It couldn’t be!” he said trying not to smile and helping her to put her head on his lap. Mel whined “If you don’t trust me, just try ! Oh, Maker, I’m going to vomit again.”

“No, no, no vomiting is bad. Here, take a sip of this. Don’t worry, Wynne said it will help you.”. The young lady drank it slowly, stopping a couple of times for murmuring approval words. 

“How do you feel?”

“It’s a miracle. The nausea is completely gone. I’m still a little weak, but nothing that some cuddles couldn’t fix.”she smiled “And, Alistair, the next time I want to try something offered by Oghren, please stop me.”

“Well, my dear lady, I tried to stop you, but you are not only beautiful and brave, you are extraordinarily stubborn.” he replied, with a soft laugh. Caressing her cheeks, he added “And, even if he won’t admit it, Oghren was really scared when you fell down. He started to shout!”

“Oh, Maker, I’m so sorry! And I have to thank Wynne and Morrigan.”.

Alistair asked, puzzled “How do you know that Morrigan helped too?”

“How she couldn’t? She’s my best friend.”.

He tried not to appear too perplexed “I understand why you like Wynne. With you, not me but it doesn’t matter” he grinned with a fake painful expression on his face “she’s always kind. Oghren has an awful sense of humor, but I can understand even him. Sometimes he is funny.”.

Mel sighed “He’s more than funny. Despite himself, he’s a good person. And Morrigan too.”.

Alistair frowned “ “Good person” aren’t exactly the words that I associate to her. She’s a witch, she’s rude, cruel and…”

“… and she made this special potion just for helping me. Morrigan isn’t an easy person, I agree, but her lacks are also her qualities. She’s indipendent, strong, fierce. She just had to learn how living with the others. Give her time.”.

Alistair kissed her hand “If you say so. I’m reliefed that you are so smart. We need a smart leader. Well, a sober one, at least.”

“And someone has just won the first watch tonight!”.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading this!!!


End file.
